A Dance of Wolves and Lions
by MyaLilyRose
Summary: Lyarra Stark, eldest child and daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, is a strong and free spirited woman. When the King rides to Winterfell he brings more than the request for her father, he brings an arranged marriage between her and Jaime Lannister.
1. Chapter 1

The clashing of metal against metal filled the courtyard of Winterfell as the two eldest Stark children trained, along with their bastard sibling and their father's ward. They were being watched from above by their Lord father, Eddard Stark.  
Lyarra was the eldest of the four, she was the firstborn daughter and first child of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn, Lord Eddard's wife. She was a tall, dark haired girl of seven and ten.  
Her younger trueborn brother, Robb was a red-haired boy with bright blue eyes, only being six and ten, he still looked boyish, even having grown a slight beard.  
Their bastard half-brother, Jon Snow, was only a few months older than Robb with black hair and dark brown eyes. He too had a beard, only of black instead of red.  
Theon Greyjoy was Lord Stark's ward, he too was six and ten, he had brown hair and a slight moustache.  
"Hold your sword higher Robb," the master at arms, Ser Rodrick, called to the Stark boy.  
Lyarra smirked at her brother as he corrected it and moved to attack her. She countered the attack easily and moved to in turn swing at him. He didn't counter in time, allowing Lyarra's training sword to whack against his leg with quite some force.  
"Ouch! Lyarra!" Robb yelped angrily.  
His sister grinned at him sheepishly, "looks like you're not ready yet."  
Robb glared at her before rolling his eyes.  
"I think that's enough for today children, the sun is setting," Catelyn Stark called.  
They all packed up their equipment, the practice sword went back into the rack and Robb, Jon and Lyarra all picked up their own swords and put them back on their belts. Together they walked through the hallways of Winterfell to their rooms to get themselves ready and presentable for dinner.  
Lyarra leant her sword against her bed and pulled off her tunic and breaches.  
"A lady must look like a lady." She snorted as she pulled on a dress, "well mother, they are not very comfortable."  
She sat in front of her dressing table a tugged a hairbrush through her hair, which during her training had become knotted. She brushed until her dark hair was smooth and untangled, before braiding the sides and joining them at the back of her head in a typical northern style. She stood, brushed down her dress and looked herself over in the mirror before leaving her room and making her way to the great hall.  
When she arrived, her family was already sitting at the head of the table. She walked up and took her place beside her mother and younger sister, Sansa.  
Sansa was a beautiful young lady with bright blue eyes and fiery red hair that she more than often wore in the northern styles her mother did for her. She was almost a perfect lady at the young age of three and ten. Lyarra found that Sansa had a very straight picture of the world, a very naïve outlook on it indeed.  
"Lyarra, you are late," Catelyn reprimanded her daughter as she sat.  
"My apologies mother, I had a battle with this dress," Lyarra rolled her eyes.  
Catelyn made a sound of disapproval but no further comment. Lyarra and Catelyn had a very strained relationship. Catelyn didn't approve of Lyarra's willingness and participation in sword play, while Lyarra hated how her mother wished for her to be a perfect lady. Catelyn also didn't approve of the close relationship that Lyarra had with Jon, as Catelyn mistreated Jon as he wasn't her son and proof of her husband's infidelity.  
"Lyarra, can you teach me how to use a sword?" Arya, her youngest sister, called from down the table.  
The girl was sitting next to Sansa. Arya was barely one and ten years old and had the adventurous spirit of her oldest sister. Many times, she had begged Lyarra or Jon to teach her how to use a sword. She was much like Lyarra, however, whenever the older girl tried to encourage Arya, she was told off by her mother and often faced consequences. If Lyarra had it her way, Arya would be learning how to use a sword and a bow right at that moment.  
Like she expected with Lyarra, Catelyn expected her youngest daughter to be a perfect lady. Something it was obvious that Arya would never be. She was much too much of a wild child to be a proper lady.  
"No Arya, she will not," Catelyn scolded before putting a spoonful of stew into her mouth.  
Arya pouted and went to staring at her food.  
Lyarra picked up her own spoon and began eating. She poured herself a cup of wine to have with her dinner also, something her mother disapproved of but said nothing about.  
"Bran will begin learning to shoot tomorrow." Ned spoke up.  
Catelyn's head whipped around, "Ned, he's still only young."  
"He is old enough to learn to use a bow Cat."  
Catelyn opened her mouth to speak again but was cut off by her husband.  
"I'll hear no more. Robb and Jon learned at his age. The decision is final."  
Lyarra gave a small smirk as her mother closed her mouth and went back to eating her soup in silence. If Catelyn Stark had it her way, none of her children would be allowed to fight or learn to fight.  
"Robb, Jon and I will prepare him father."  
Catelyn dropped her spoon into her stew and Lyarra grinned widely.

Another arrow fell to the ground after missing the target above it. Lyarra handed her little brother another arrow. He took his time lining up his shot before letting the arrow fly into the barrel nearby. Jon sighed and walked forward. He leant down so that he could see where Bran was aiming and held his shoulder.  
"Go on, father's watching," he glanced up where Ned and Catelyn stood, "and your mother."  
Bran nocked another arrow to the bow and took a breath before letting it fly. It flew above the target and over the stone wall behind it. Lyarra sighed and walked over to Bran while Robb and Jon began laughing. Lyarra watched Bran's face became one of disappointment.  
"And which one of you was a marksman at ten?" Lord Stark asked.  
He looked at his youngest son and nodded encouragingly.  
"Keep practicing Bran."  
Lyarra smiled up at her father knowingly. She had been almost a perfect marksman at eleven. She turned to her brother and put a hand on his shoulder.  
"Adjust your stance. Feet apart."  
"Don't think too much Bran."  
"Relax your bow arm."  
Bran held the bow and nocked arrow before shooting. An arrow hit the target. But it wasn't fired by Bran. Everyone turned around to see Arya standing behind them with a bow in hand. She gave a curtsey just before Bran ran at her, causing everyone to laugh. Lyarra picked up Bran's discarded bow while Jon began picking up the arrows around them. Rickon and Robb went over to the targets to collect the fallen arrows from there.  
"She's a good shot," Lyarra commented.  
Rickon ran over with a handful of arrows and handed them to Jon.  
"Aye, she is." Jon agreed.  
The bastard boy put the arrows back into the holder when he felt a pair of eyes burning into him. He looked up to catch the gaze of Catelyn. It was a cold and hateful glare, nothing he wasn't used to. Lyarra noticed the exchange and cleared her throat. Her mother broke her gaze on Jon and turned it to her eldest daughter, who met her with the same cold glare. Catelyn stared at her daughter for a short while before turning away. Lyarra's face softened as she approached her half-brother.  
"Just ignore her. You know she isn't going to change."  
Jon shrugged and said nothing. Although he acted like Catelyn's cold demeanour didn't affect him, she knew that deep down it hurt him. Jon was raised by only his father; he never had a mother and she was the closest he would get. But she was nothing but cold and cruel to him. Lyarra placed a hand on Jon's arm for a moment before dropping it and walking away.  
She knew there wasn't much that could be said to make him feel any better.


	2. Chapter 2

While the boys were out executing the deserter of the Night's Watch, Lyarra spent her time with Arya. They sat out in the grass outside Winterfell amongst some flowers, looking up at the sky. It wasn't often that Arya and Lyarra could be found being so calm outside together.  
"Why is mother so strict with me and Sansa, but not with you?" Arya asked out of no-where.  
Lyarra turned her head and found her sister's curious eyes.  
"Because I didn't turn out to be what mother wanted. I am not the perfect lady she wanted me to be. So, I think she wants to make you and Sansa into what I will never be."  
"I don't want to be a lady either. I want to be a knight. Let Sansa be the stupid lady. With her stupid sewing and stupid writing and stupid singing."  
Lyarra laughed, "if you don't want to be a lady, what do you want to be?"  
"A knight! A fighter! Just anything except a lady," Arya raised an invisible sword to the sky with huge grin on her face, but Lyarra couldn't help but notice the dirty look she got on her face every time she said 'lady'.  
The sound of horses approaching the gates of Winterfell caused both girls to sit up quickly. Riding towards them were Bannermen of House Stark along with the returning men; their father, Robb, Bran, Theon, Jon and Ser Rodrik.  
The girls quickly stood and ran towards the gates, following the horses in.  
As they unsaddled by the stables, Robb and Jon gently put two bundled up cloaks on the dirt floor. Arya and Lyarra both made sounds of disbelief at the sight of 7 small wolf pups. Each pup had different colouring to the next. There was a pure white one with red eyes, an albino. There was a pure black one with blue eyes. There was a dark brown pup whose fur was almost black but not quite, it had brown eyes. The other pup were different variants between grey, white, brown and dark grey.  
Jon picked up the albino pup. Lyarra rolled her eyes, of course he picked the runt of the litter. Arya almost bolted towards the pups in excitement, so excited Lyarra was worried that she would scare the poor creatures. Lyarra moved to stand beside Robb.  
"What is this?" she asked curiously.  
"We found the carcass of a stag on the trail home. We then found a dead dire wolf off the trail and these pups with it. Father was going to kill them, but there are seven pups and seven of us. One pup for each of us."  
"And we raise them and feed them ourselves. If they die, we bury them," Jon added.  
Lyarra raised her eyebrow at him, "I see you've chosen before everyone else?"  
Jon shook his head, "Theon said this one is mine because it's the runt and its different. Like me."  
Lyarra's eyes flicked over to where Theon was standing with his horse. It was no surprise to her that it would be Theon to say something of that sort to Jon. He was prideful and arrogant.  
"I suppose we all choose our own pups. Or they choose us."  
Lyarra approached the pups and knelt down, watching each of them. A couple of them looked at her but didn't seem interested at all. Until the pure black pup with blue eyes looked at her. Instantly it began walking towards her, sniffing the air in her direction. She held her hand out for the pup, who began sniffing her hand. The baby wolf must have decided Lyarra was no threat and it got up on its hind legs, putting its front paws into Lyarra's hand. The eldest Stark girl laughed and lifted the pup from the ground and cradled it in her arms.  
"Well hello. I guess you chose me, didn't you?"  
She gently stroked its dark fur and smiled down at it. She moved towards her brothers again, grinning widely.  
"Better get in quick Robb. Theon, go collect Rickon and Sansa, would you?"  
Theon snorted, "you do it."  
Lyarra raised an eyebrow at Theon, "I said go get Rickon and Sansa. I won't ask again."  
She used the same tone her father would when commanding Theon to go do something. The Greyjoy had heard it a few times from Lyarra, and a few times when he didn't listen, he'd gotten hurt.  
He quickly left to go find the other Stark children.  
"Well then, it would seem that's taken care of. Soon enough more than just Bran, Jon and I will have chosen our wolves." She glanced over her shoulder to see Arya still trying to pick a wolf who seemed to want to just wander around the area sniffing at the ground.  
Lyarra gently pat her pup on the head again, playing with her ears. Jon seemed to be doing the same with his pure white bundle of fur.  
"I'll name him Ghost. It seems fitting enough for him," Jon said.  
A smile graced Lyarra's face as she stared at the wolf in his arms, "aye it does."  
Smaller footsteps sounded from behind Lyarra and Arya appeared beside her with her own pup in her hands. The girl's face was stretched out with a huge grin and her brown eyes were sparkling.  
"I've named her Nymeria."  
Both Jon and Lyarra laughed. Nymeria was the name of a Female Dornish warrior queen that Lyarra had read about to Arya years before. Arya had never forgotten the queen's story, but it showed what an influence the story had on the youngest Stark girl.  
"A fierce name, little sister," Lyarra smiled.  
Arya beamed up at her older sister before turning and bolting away, wolf in her arms.  
Lyarra shifted the pup she had in her arms so that she could look into its eyes. She had yet to give her a name.  
"You will come up with a name." Jon assured her, clearly noticing the thoughtful look on his sister's face.  
"I know. I just don't want it to only be my choice. I want her to let me know what she likes. It's only fair."  
Jon chuckled and shook his head, "you put on a strong face, but you are soft Arra."  
And with that, Jon turned and walked away.  
Lyarra shook her head, "I'm not soft…" she grumbled.

The eldest Stark girl was curled up in bed reading, her direwolf laying on the bed beside her. One hand was holding the book in her lap while the other unconsciously was stroking the wolf's head. Every now and again, Lyarra's hand would stop stroking her wolf's fur so that she could turn the page and each time, the pup's head would come up and her eyes would look questioningly at Lyarra.  
Eventually Lyarra let out a sigh and glanced down at the wolf. They met eyes and the girl gave a smile.  
"What should we name you? Blue?"  
The wolf just stared at her.  
"Asher?"  
No reaction.  
"Heleine?"  
The wolf turned her head and laid it on the bed.  
"I'll try again later."  
Lyarra closed her book, marking her page with a feather, and put it on the table beside her bed. With a quick breath, she blew out the candle and rolled over. Her pup curled up against her and snuggled up close as the two began their journey into sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Lyarra dined with her family the next morning. It was a quiet and dull morning, however her father had requested all the family dine together, including Jon. They all sat around the table, eating when Ned stood up.  
"I have something to tell you all."  
Everyone put down their knives and forks, except Rickon and Arya, and turned their heads towards him. Once Ned had their attention, he continued.  
"The king, the queen and their children will all be travelling to Winterfell."  
A loud gasp came from Sansa as her eyes lit up, "they are bringing the Prince Joffery?"  
"Aye, and the two younger ones."  
Lyarra narrowed her eyes, "why is the King all this way to Winterfell? And bringing the queen and their children with him?"  
Her father ignored her question, "we will be hosting a royal feast on the night of their arrival and we will open Winterfell to them. You all must behave accordingly."  
Lyarra felt her mother's eyes burning holes into the side of her head and rolled her eyes. Just because the king was coming for a royal visit did not mean that Lyarra would discontinue her training and fighting. She would continue her hunting and usual activities whether her mother forbade it or not.  
"There is another thing…Lyarra," Ned continued.  
She returned her full attention to her father, "yes?"  
"The king has arranged a marriage between you and a member of the party coming north."  
Lyarra's eyes narrowed and her heartbeat began to pick up. Under the table, one of her hands clenched onto the hem of her tunic.  
this was not the way her life was supposed to go. Lyarra never wished to marry, never wanted to be the lady of anything. Her father knew that, but there he stood informing her that she would be wedded to someone.  
"No." She stated fiercely.  
Catelyn leaned closer to her from across the table, "you are old enough to be married, your father has put it off due to your stubbornness, but now is the time."  
Her father eyed his wife with hesitance, and it was then that Lyarra realised he disapproved the match between her and whoever the King had chosen.  
"No. I will not marry. I refuse."  
"You cannot refuse Lyarra, it is the King's orders. You are to be wedded to Jaime of House Lannister."

Lyarra slammed shut the door of her chambers, frightening the direwolf who was curled up in front of the fireplace.  
"Jaime fucking Lannister. The Kingslayer. The King wants me to marry the fucking Kingslayer!"  
She threw her book across the room, damaging it. Her wolf watched her as she paced around the room, yelling and screaming, until a knock sounded on the door.  
"Who is it?" Lyarra snarled harshly.  
"It's Jon. Can I come in?"  
Lyarra didn't reply, just watched as the door opened anyways. Jon poked his head into the room and met his sister's eyes. His deep brown eyes were filled with worry, while hers were filled with rage. He entered her room and closed the door behind him.  
"You ruined your book." He nodded towards the book Lyarra had thrown. It sat on the floor, the pages crinkled and torn.  
"I did."  
Jon approached her slowly, "you're not happy."  
"I am not."  
he put a hand against her cheek, "You will be okay."  
Lyarra glared at him.  
He puts his hands up in defence, " I mean it Arra, you will be. You can hold your own against the Kingslayer. You are strong and fierce. He won't know what has hit him."  
She shrugged her shoulders, "I still have to marry him. Have his children."  
"You can raise your children the way you want. What have we heard about the Kingslayer?"  
"He killed the Mad King, stabbed him in the back. He is dishonourable. No doubt while I coddle his children, he will be out fucking whores."  
Jon sighed, "which is dishonourable towards you, aye. But you will be raising your children."  
He grabbed her hands and gave her a small smile.  
"You will raise little northerners, like Father and Robb and me. You'll teach them honour and loyalty."  
Lyarra pulled her hands from his, "I don't want to talk about this anymore."  
Jon nodded and sighed again in defeat. He had come to her room to try and cheer her up, yet he'd just made her worse.  
He moved to the door and opened, then turned back to look at Lyarra who had moved over to her wardrobe. He left the room, closing the door softly behind him.  
Lyarra glanced over her shoulder as the door clicked closed. She knew Jon was only trying to give her the light of the situation, but it made her angrier.  
She roughly opened the old worn door of her wardrobe and grabbed her riding clothes. She would hunt.

The arrow pierced right through the body of the rabbit, causing a yelp from the wolf who had ben stalking it. Lyarra laughed at her pup in amusement putting her bow back onto her back at the same time. She had purposely shot the rabbit her wolf was watching to help train her up for the hunting they would do together in future. The pup would need to get used to arrow and blades flying around.  
"It's okay my little hunter. It was just an arrow; I'm not going to hurt you."  
The pups tailed wagged and she gave Lyarra a little bark.  
"What is it girl?"  
The ears dropped and it bright blue eyes showed what Lyarra could only describe as disappointment.  
"Hunter?"  
The pup's tail wagged again as she barked again.  
"You like that name?"  
Her tail continued to wave around in the air as the pup begun prancing around. Lyarra could help but laugh at her wolf's enthusiasm.  
"Hunter it is then."  
The newly named she-wolf continued to bound around, until something caught her attention and she became still. Her large ears perked up and she sniffed the air. Lyarra began looking around and listening as well. Without a doubt Hunter had better hearing than her, but if whatever had caught the wolf's attention was coming towards them, she would hear or see it son enough.  
Distantly Lyarra heard the sound of hooves against the ground, and she glanced behind her.  
Her father was riding towards her with Jory Cassel, the captain of Eddard's guards.  
Lyarra let out a sigh of disappointment and frustration. She had been gone for hours, yes, but she didn't wish to be found by her father, let alone see him until she had to.  
"Lyarra, you have been out here far too long. Your mother has been looking for you," her father's voice called.  
His horse stopped beside her own and Lyarra turned her attention back to her wolf who was looking on with curious eyes.  
"Has she?" she needed not to make herself sound disinterested.  
Her mother was likely looking for her so that she could lecture Lyarra about the importance of being a wife and mother. To remind the wild girl of her duties as a Lady.  
"Aye she has. She wishes to speak to you. As do I."  
Lyarra snorted, "you have said all you need to father. I wish not to speak to you or to my lady mother."  
She dug her heels into the sides of her horse and the animal began into a slow trot. Her father followed.  
"I had no choice but to agree Lyarra. It is the King's orders. It would be treason to refuse his wishes."  
"He wouldn't execute you or banish you, father. You are one of his most loyal friends."  
"It is still treason Lyarra. I need you to understand that it if were my choice, I would not have you married at all. You may be of the right age, but I don't wish to see you, or your sisters married."  
Lyarra tightened her grip on the reigns, "father…why does the King want me to marry the Kingslayer? Of all the people he wants to marry me to the most dishonourable man in all of the Seven Kingdoms. I'm almost half his age!"  
Her father let out a heavy sigh and Lyarra glanced at him. He wasn't as young as he had been when she was little. He had more of a light to his eyes. While he didn't look overly old, he didn't look young either. His skin had only just begun to sag a little and his eyes had become much more serious and sullen. She could remember a time where her father could look at her and his face would brighten.  
Sometimes she had wondered about what his time down south during the rebellion had done to him. Her mother used to tell her about how full of life her father was, serious, but hearty. When he had returned from the rebellion, he had become much more serious according to her mother and others she had spoken to, including her uncle Benjen. Her mother blamed it on Lyanna Stark's death. Her father had loved her aunt very much, as any brother would. Lyarra remembered that once or twice someone, her mother, father or Benjen had compared her to her aunt Lyanna.  
It was one of the reasons that Lyarra refused to follow her mother's rules. She, like her aunt, was free spirited. She refused to bow down to the rules of being a lady or how a woman in the north should act, just as her aunt had. Her aunt had been a fierce warrior while occasionally being the noble lady she was expected to be.  
Lyanna was betrothed to Robert Baratheon, the King, before she died. Lyarra wondered if she had been as angry about betrothal, as Lyarra was about hers.  
Unlikely. Lyanna knew Robert, she maybe even trusted him because he was her brother's friend.  
Lyarra sighed. She didn't know Jaime Lannister, but she was betrothed to him. And her fighting against it would just make it difficult for everyone.  
"I'll do it…" She said quietly.  
"What did you say?"  
She cleared her throat and sat up straight while turning her horse so that she could face her father.  
"I will marry Jaime Lannister."


	4. Chapter 4

A month had passed from the time that Lyarra had accept her imminent marriage. That meant there were only a few days yet to pass before the Royal's would arrive in Winterfell.  
For the past four weeks, her mother had hounded her over her duties as a wife and the plans for the wedding, causing Lyarra to avoid her at any cost. She'd managed to avoid her well enough. Sansa had fawned over her older sister getting married to the 'most handsome man in Westeros'. Robb was irritated over his sister's upcoming wedding, he didn't want to see her go, while Arya was annoyed that she had to share her home with people she didn't know.  
Lyarra climbed the stairs to the balcony, nearby the courtyard where her father stood. He was wearing his large wolfskin and his usual attire of a brown tunic and breaches. She stopped beside him, her eyes finding her younger brothers in the courtyard below.  
"Your mother was looking for you again."  
"I know. But I'm not hiding, she is clearly not looking hard enough." Lyarra said, rolling her eyes.  
Her father let out a sigh and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose causing Lyarra to regret her sentence.  
"You agreed to the marriage, the least you could do is to change your attitude," he told her roughly.  
Lyarra began picking at the wood on the rail in front of her, avoiding his gaze. She knew she was making it hard on her parents when it came to the marriage, but that was because she refused to give up who she was for some stupid man. She knew her parents would want her to conform, to become the lady her mother wanted her to become, that her mother had tried so hard to mould her into when she was only a child.  
"I am sorry father. But you know I don't want this marriage. You know I don't want to give up my freedom for a husband who may lock me away to care for his children. I don't want to give up who I am."  
Her father put a hand on her shoulder, "I know, and if it were up to me, I would wait for you to decide, or not wed you to anyone. But this is the king's orders."  
Lyarra sighed and nodded, "I know..."  
"You need to go to your mother."  
Her father turned away then and strode off, leaving Lyarra standing on her own.  
"Must go see my mother…" she ripped a splinter of wood off the rail and pelted it away, "oh great fun this will be."

She found her mother in the main hall of Winterfell. The king and queen's arrival was only days away and her mother had been fretting. The room was filled with people who were decorating the room and preparing the tables. Her mother walked through, Maester Luwin following her.  
"We need plenty of candles for Lord Tyrion's chamber. I am told her reads all night." Catelyn was saying.  
"I am told he drinks all night." The Maester commented.  
"How much could he possibly drink? A man of his stature."  
Lord Tyrion was the Queen's younger brother. He was a dwarf, a very short man, which earned him the nickname 'the imp'. Rumours were that he whored and drank himself and the Lannister family's gold away. He was said to be an intelligent man, even when drunk. In Lyarra's opinion he would probably be the most interesting Lannister, other than the Lord of Casterly Rock, and would be the Lannister she got along with best. She couldn't see herself getting along with her husband.  
"Lyarra!" Her mother called loudly. Her voice was tense, as it usually was when speaking to her eldest daughter.  
"Mother. You were looking for me?" Lyarra asked curtly.  
"I was. We need to speak."  
Lyarra let out a huff but followed her mother as she strode from the hall.  
"You have avoided me since you found out bout your marriage. You need to learn and know your duties as a wife."  
"Mother, I really do not care."  
Catelyn turned on her, her face holding the angry expression she reserved for Lyarra only, "you will care when Tywin Lannister decides he has no use for you after you have birthed the heir to Casterly Rock. He will have no use for a woman who disobeys and doesn't do her duty to her husband and children," she snapped angrily.  
Lyarra stared at her mother, whose nostrils were flaring and eyes were burning furiously with anger. Her hands were curled into fists by her sides.  
In only a few words, Lyarra had angered her mother enough to scare herself.  
"I'm sorry mother."  
"Go. I don't want to look at you," Catelyn said plainly, the anger still evident in her voice.  
Lyarra scurried away down the hallway, not looking back.

Lyarra sat in the courtyard, watching her brother, Bran, as he ran along the stone walls of Winterfell. He'd overheard someone say earlier that day that the King and Queen's league would be marching through Wintertown within a few hours.  
The moment he had found out, he dragged Lyarra into the courtyard and begged her to climb the walls with him to watch for them. Lyarra had refused because she'd chosen to wear a dress, having heard earlier in the week that they would arrive that day. So, she watched Bran from below, Hunter and Bran's unnamed wolf sitting nearby and watching.  
Something Lyarra shared with her mother, was her worry for Bran when we climbed. Lyarra knew that one wrong step and he would fall and likely injure himself. The thought of ny of her siblings getting hurt scared her, she loved them far too much. However, she didn't try to stop Bran or her other siblings from doing the things they wanted to do, she would simply watch them if it was dangerous, go with them or tell them to be careful.  
Bran was a sure-footed boy, Lyarra and her father jested that Bran was climbing before he could crawl. And since it had been impossible to get him to stop. Almost every day he would run about the castle, finding a new place to climb. He had climbed almost everywhere he possibly could, except the broken tower. Lyarra had made him promise not to climb that particular tower because it was falling apart. So far Bran had kept his promise to her.  
"Lyarra! I see them!" Bran yelled from above.  
"Come back down here then!"  
Bran grinned widely at her and started jumping his way back down, just as Catelyn had come into the courtyard. She glanced at Lyarra, then at the pups who were both looking up at Bran as he was climbing down.  
"Gods they grow fast." She said, then turned to see what the two pups were looking at, "Brandon!"  
"I saw the king! He's got hundreds of people."  
"How many times have I told you, no more climbing?"  
Lyarra rolled her eyes and walked towards where her brother was climbing down, ready to help him.  
"But he's coming right now! Down our road!" he climbed onto the roof of one of the stables and slid down over the edge.  
He dropped down in front of Lyarra who had her arms out ready to catch or help him if he needed it. Lady Catelyn had also walked forward. When Bran turned around to look at her, she leaned down to look him in the eyes.  
"I want you to promise me no more climbing."  
Bran looked down at his feet, causing Lyarra stifle a laugh. Her mother's eyes flicked to her disapprovingly, then back to Bran.  
"I promise," Bran said when he looked back up at his mother.  
Lady Catelyn stood up straight with a look of amusement on her face, "you know what?"  
"What?"  
"You always look at your feet before you lie."  
Bran smiled and gave small laugh.  
"Run and find your father, tell him the King is close."  
The boy ran off, his pup following him. Catelyn turned to Lyarra.  
"You need to stop encouraging him to climb. One day he will fall."  
Lyarra's eyes narrowed as she looked at her mother, "do not think to assume you have any idea what I am doing. For your information, I am standing here to make sure he doesn't fall. You won't get him to stop climbing, he always will, it's a part of him. But you can restrict him. I've made him promise not to climb the Broken Tower or any other area that may be unsafe for him. And he's held to that."  
Catelyn's eyes widened as she listened to her daughter snap at her. It was a usual occurrence, but still shocked the Lady of Winterfell when her eldest snapped at her tht way.  
"Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to inform my siblings of the King's arrival."  
Lyarra whistled for her pup and stormed off, bumping her mother's shoulder as she did.

Lyarra stood between her father and Robb, in line with the rest of her family as they waited for the king to ride through the gates of Winterfell. Arya was missing, Lyarra guessed she was in the crowd somewhere wanting to see the Royal family arrive first.  
"Where's Arya? Sansa, where's your sister?" Catelyn fretted.  
Sansa gave an uncaring shrug and continued to watch the gates.  
Lyarra smirked as she saw her younger sister come rushing to stand in line, wearing a soldier's metal helmet. Ned stopped Arya as she went to run by him.  
"What are you doing with that on?"  
He took the helmet off her head and handed it someone behind him. Arya took her place between Sansa and Bran, pushing her brother over with a harsh 'move'.

The sound of hooves on the ground filled Lyarra's ears as the first of the King's men came through the gates of Winterfell. The men wore white clocks and silver armour. Riding behind the men was a boy no older than Sansa with golden hair.  
"Prince Joffery," Lyarra murmured to herself.  
Both her and Robb glanced over at Sansa who was eyeing the Prince with a look of what could only be admiration. Lyarra glanced back at the Prince who was looking right back at the red-haired girl. He gave her a smug looking smile, one that gave Lyarra her very first impression of him, and it wasn't a good one.  
Beside the Prince was a man Lyarra could only guess was the Hound, Sandor Clegane, the personal bodyguard of Joffery. His helmet was a black bulky thing in the shape of a dog's head. He was a large man, and had a huge great sword on his hip.  
A red and golden carriage, decorated with Lannister banners, pulled by horses came through the gates next. Lyarra assumed instantly the queen and two youngest royals were in it. Lyarra couldn't help but notice a lack of the Baratheon sigil on the carriage.  
Behind the carriage came the King. Lyarra studied the man who could have once been her uncle through marriage to her aunt Lyanna. He was a fat man, with a dark beard and a pink face. As he rode closer, they all got down and bowed.

Lyarra watched through her hair as men brought a large wooden step so that the king the King could get down from his horse. Once his feet were on the ground, he strode over to them in almost an angry fashion. He stopped in front of her father, causing her to look down again.  
When she felt her father rise beside her, she followed suit, as did everyone.  
"Your Grace," he father bowed his head in respect.  
The king stayed silent, looking at her father. The exchange made Lyarra nervous and she had to stop herself from cringing away or shifting from foot to foot.  
Was King Robert angry at her father for something? Was that why he was really there?  
"You got fat." The king finally said.  
There was a small silence again and her father gestured to his old friend as if trying to say something in return of the king's own size.  
They both began laughing, clearing away the tension. Catelyn gave a small chuckle and Lyarra relaxed a little. The old friends went in for a hug and Lyarra smiled.  
The King pulled away and went in to hug Catelyn, "Cat!"  
"Your grace." Her mother said politely.  
King Robert then ruffled up Rickon's hair before facing Lord Stark again.  
"Nine years. Why haven't I seen you? Where have you been?"  
"Guarding the north for you, Your Grace."

Lyarra's attention flicked to movement by the large red carriage. The younger prince and princess had come out to stand in front of the carriage.  
'_Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella._' Lyarra recalled in her head.  
The princes wore a simple dress of pink while the prince wore a black tunic and pants with a red clock over his shoulder. Both had golden hair.  
Their mother exited the carriage next.

The queen was as beautiful as people said she was. She had long golden hair that came down to her waist. Her face was heart shaped and her skin fair. She wore a red gown with a lions pelt cloak over her shoulders.  
She began to approach Lyarra's family, looking around Winterfell with a slight look of disapproval.  
"Where's the Imp?" Lyarra heard arya ask.  
She glanced down at her youngest sister who was looking around for Tyrion Lannister.  
"Would you shut up?" Sansa snapped.  
"Who have we here?" the king's voice approaching her turned her attention to him as he looked at her.  
She curtsied politely.  
"You look just like your aunt. Are you just as untameable?"  
"I hope so, Your Grace."  
The king laughed loudly.  
"You must be Robb."  
The King shook the boy's hand firmly, Robb looked proud. Lyarra could help but admire her brothers clean shaven face and boyish looks. Since Robb had started growing his beard, he only trimmed it, never went clean shaven.  
The king moved along to Sansa, "aye, you're a pretty one."  
The red hair bowed her head ever so slightly as her face turned pink. Lyarra snorted then winced as Robb elbowed her in the ribs.  
"Your name is?"  
"Arya."  
"Show us your muscles."  
Bran flexed for the King.  
"You'll be a soldier."  
Lyarra smiled softly at the look of happiness on her younger brother's face. Bran wanted to be a soldier, he told everyone about it.  
"That's Jaime Lannister, the Queen's twin brother. The one Arra is marrying." Arya told Sansa.

Lyarra's head snapped around to look for her husband to be. A man with long golden hair had just taken off his golden helmet and flicked his head back. He then tucked the helmet under his arm and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. He had a chiselled jaw and cheekbones, and he stood straight and proud.  
Her attention was taken off him as the Queen approached. She gave a slight smile to Lord Stark before offering the man her hand. He took it and kissed it.  
Now that Cersei Lannister was closer, Lyarra realise she wasn't as beautiful as she had seemed from afar. Her face showed some age and weariness, and her eyes sparkled with deviance. She seemed to have this look about her that Lyarra couldn't trust.  
"My Queen." Her father greeted.  
"My Queen." Her mother echoed while curtseying.

"Take me to your crypts," the King ordered suddenly, "I want to pay my respects."  
The Queen's face became sour as she turned to her husband, "we have been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait."  
The king ignored her, "Ned."  
He turned away and began walking.  
Lord Stark gave the Queen a sympathetic look before following.  
The Queen stared after them, no emotions evident on her face, until she turned to Lyarra.  
"Lyarra Stark?"  
"Yes, Your Grace." Lyarra curtsied awkwardly.  
"You are a picture of your late aunt." The Queen said. Lyarra was unsure whether or not it was a complement of a simple statement.  
"So I have been told, Your Grace."  
The Queen hummed.  
"Where the Imp?" Arya asked.  
The question caught the Queen's attention and she turned and walked back towards her brother.  
"Where is our brother? Go and find the little monster."


End file.
